


Harder To Breathe

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Lowkey D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable-<br/>So condescending unnecessarily critical-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder To Breathe

Jazz flexed his servos, watching opponent number seven stumble away from the sparring ring after snapping through the cable-barrier. He stomped in annoyance, still aggravated, annoyed…. vicious.

He ground his dentae, engine rumbling as the crowd began to disperse with wary looks shot his way.

A bad mission, a bad week, long hours and no relief had taken their toll on the chipper Agent finally; and this is what they were left with. A snarling, growling hellhound with a snapped leash and his collar shredded in his jowls who stared over those gathered with a challenge or defiance in his optics… no one could tell.

When a hush fell over the room, Jazz turned and narrowed those same optics behind his visor.

“Heya Prowler.”

“And WHAT is the meaning of this?”, snapped the TacHead, his voice clipped and precise; a razorblade of eloquence and sentences that sliced down to protoform, “Four mechs in the medbay, soon to be five. What’s ruffled your plating THIS time.”

“Jus’ antsy.”

“Antsy.”

“Yeah.”

Prowl continued stepping forward, each tap of a pede perfectly in line with the previous. The evenness of his gait ground against Jazz’s nerves as he watched the sway of Prowl’s body and felt the annoyance radiate from it.

“Then, as your superior, I should have been the first to know.”

Jazz growled. No words, just a low rev-and-rumble in challenge.

Prowl’s lips quirked in a rare and wry smile.

“Is that how we shall play it, then?”

The whispers had started again, and Prowl’s footsteps stopped. He stood in the squared off area, silent and watching again. And then his heels clacked and he barked out a, “TEN-SHUN!”

Lines of watchers suddenly stood ramrod straight.

“The next time an Agent is allowed to rampage uselessly due to a bad temper and bruised ego, all those who placed bets answer to ME. Understood?”

A mutter rippled through.

Optics like shards of ice moved to the side, “ _I SAID, **UNDERSTOOD?**_ ”

“Yes Sir, Sorry Sir!”, was the answer in perfect unison.

“Excellent. I’ll hold you all to that.”

The sarcasm was _TANGIBLE._ Prowl once more gave Jazz his undivided attention, tilting his helm just so; suddenly his chevron seemed like a bull’s horns, his stance seemed more ready for a charge.

“So, you are antsy.”

“That’s what ah said, INNIT.”, snapped Jazz, his anger having built all this time- a tower with glass foundations and ready to topple in a breeze, “Or has all that office work dulled alla yer senses?”

“Now, now, Jazz. No need to be snippy.”, said Prowl, his voice gaining an almost playful lilt, “If you are snippy, I’ll have to remind you how to heel.”

“You callin’ me a MUTT?!”

“Prove to me you are not; given all your growling and snarling I’m not exactly inclined to believe otherwise.”

With a roar of expletives, Jazz flung himself at Prowl with balled fists. Prowl ducked and dodged, stepping so lightly it could have been a dance instead of fisticuffs. Blocks were effortless, almost bored.

“QUIT COMPUTIN’ AND FIGHT ME, DAMMIT!”

Crack!

Jazz tumbled to the side, rolling once to end up on hands and knees. His visor clattered away, landing at the feet of his audience and he looked at Prowl with fire in his optics.

“Computing? Jazz, how pretentious to assume I would need to calculate your actions.”, Prowl’s face was almost amused, “You’re just _predictable._ ”

That did it. Mechs gathered swore they heard fuses pop as Jazz snarled, getting to his feet and launching himself once again at the tactician. A click, and Prowl swore as he dodged a swipe of a blade.

“How UNDERHANDED.”

“You never stated y’rules, Prowler. So it’s anythin’ goes!”

Prowl dodged another swipe with a murmur of, “Very true…”

Dodge, swipe, punch, block. A never-ending chain reaction between two colliding atoms; nuclear explosions in motion-

And then Prowl got ahold of the sparring ring’s snapped barrier, long since discarded. He yanked, snapping the length of cable in the middle and dodging another swipe from Jazz.

“Whatcha gonna do with some cord, eh?!”, hissed Jazz. A kick flew out, colliding with Prowl’s waist and making him grunt and… stumble.

An opening.

Jazz bared his dentae in a grin, and dove for it.

The cable looped around his torso, around neck cables; pulled tight and then his back was to Prowl’s chest. The audience swore and cheered, whined and jeered and broke apart like puddles on hot concrete as Jazz squirmed and kicked.

“Simple, Agent.”, purred Prowl, “If I have rope, I will make a leash to teach you to HEEL.”

Jazz snarled, squirming and Prowl wound the slack a little tighter around his hands.

“Calm, Jazz.”, whispered Prowl, “Focus on my voice.”

Jazz’s vents were rapid and angry; he gnashed his teeth and arched his back but was pulled firmly against Prowl’s frame again as he panted.

“Breathe with me, Jazz.”

The crowd began to disperse, and Jazz bit his whine in half as Prowl revved his pursuit engine.

“Heel, Jazz.”, growled the TacHead into Jazz’s audial, keeping the agent standing as the squirming gained a desperate feel, “I’m here, it’s alright. I am still very proud of you, you held on this long.”

A choked off whimper.

“Sssh, good mech, good boy. Heel for me, caaaaalm.”

“Didn’t wanna- wanna bother y-ou.”, whispered Jazz, turning his head to bury it against Prowl’s neck cables.

“Its not a bother, caring for you is not a bother, ever.”, purred Prowl, “Calm, mech. Caaaalm.”

Jazz’s squirming slowed, and finally stopped, and he leaned heavy against Prowl, his exvents sharp and jittery. The makeshift binding carefully went slack, not releasing until the click of a blade being hidden away sounded. The room was empty, and quiet, and Jazz relaxed back against Prowl.

“…They ‘scarperd on me Prowler. Couldn’t catch ‘em.”

“I know.”

“ Ahm sorry.”

“It’s alright. Are you hurt?”

“Just sore servos an’ a twisted knee. Nothin’ a good nap won’t fix.”

Jazz turned in the embrace, burrowing against Prowl. The TacHead hushed his annoyed mutterings and soft apologies; dragging his servotips up and down Jazz’s backstrut. His doorwings flicked absently when he felt Jazz nip at his jawline.

“Hm?”

“Prooooooowler.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you yes me mech, I can feel yer coretemp jumpin’ like a magma chamber about to bust.”

“Maybe it’s just yours.”, teased Prowl, leaning back just enough to glance at Jazz.

“Mhm. Sure.”, snorted Jazz, before pressing his lipplates against Prowls in an action that spoke lewd volumes.

Prowl purred into the kiss, letting it go just this side of ‘a little too far’ before breaking it.

“Ten second head start. Don’t be seen, lover.”

“Loser wears the blindfold?”

“Loser get’s trussed up and worked over to the **BEST** of the victor’s ability.”

Jazz’s engine revved at the prospect.

Prowl’s optics glinted.


End file.
